The Witching Hour
by SignedSealedWritten
Summary: It was time for them to move again - and this time, to New York. In a private school, what will they discover? Renesmee is about to be taken under the wing of a new group. A group of witches, who have no qualms about causing trouble wherever they go.
1. Prologue

**The Witching Hour**

**Prologue**

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

~ T.S. Eliot

I watched with wide brown eyes, breath caught up in my throat. I'd never, ever expected anything like this, nothing this … spectacular, all-enclosing, that wrapped around my middle and pulled me too it. I wanted this, more than anything else, and I knew this with a sudden finality. This was amazing. I wanted in, as they'd asked of me. I wanted to be taken under their wing, as they were so willing to do. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Being me, that was hard to ask for.

But with these girls, I knew it was about to be accomplished.

One would have thought that growing up with the people I did, learning the existence of witches would not surprise me - that nothing on this earth could faze me, but this did. This was surprising, after all I'd seen, werewolves and vampires and half-breeds, this was the existence of yet another species – another world that I wanted a part in.

My dad would be mad, after warning me. So would my mom, and grandfather. I wondered vaguely about my Aunts and Uncles, and about my grandmother.

I wondered about Jacob.

But none of this mattered now. This was about me, for once, and not about them.

And that was how the end began.


	2. Shadows

**The Witching Hour**

"Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city … Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills …"

-Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

We left the small town of Forks, Washington, just the same way as my Dad and his family had come to it twelve years ago, without a word, discreetly. We said goodbye to nobody besides my Grandfather and the La Push pack, because nobody else knew that we still lived in that mansion in the woods. It's easy to make people forget, when you no longer see them, to forget that there were people here. The sense of foreboding that most humans feel when they get too close helped as well.

I'd lived in that house for seven years; never able to leave with one of the "vampire" side of my family, because not aging doesn't fare well in the minds of humans. The trips that I had out of the house were always with Jacob, and occasionally with my Grandfather. My own aging was always brushed off with humans, because they always see what they want to see. At the age of seven, I looked sixteen, and would for the rest of eternity.

It may seem like we should have moved long ago, maybe a few more times after that. We could have, with J. Jenks for the passports and stuff, but we didn't, quite obviously. Grandpa Carlisle and Grandpa Esme always wanted me to grow up here – so they worked it out. I'd never not had faith in anything that they put their minds too.

Never the less, I'd never gone to Forks High School, and obviously, my parents didn't go either after graduating the first time. I didn't mind, though, because I've always been the luckiest girl in the schooling respect – homeschooled with some of the most knowledgeable teachers that had ever or would ever walk the face of the earth.

My Grandfather taught me science; I think that he wants me to grow up to be a doctor. I can see the light in his eyes when he tells me about how to split an atom. I'm pretty sure that he knows just about everything there is to know about everything.

My Grandma taught me the arts – DDP, painting and drawing, pastels and watercolors. When I was little, I used to finger paint with her. My Grandma, the artist who could create dreams with her fingertips.

My Uncle Emmett must have this crazy dream that I'm going to be a professional sports player or something, even if he knows that's impossible. I've got to say, though, he's made sure I've grown into quite the little sports fanatic over the years. Personally, I think he's just happy that I'm not as clumsy as my mother used to be. I know, I've heard the stories.

My Aunt Rosalie taught me math, which was my least favorite subject, even though I could see how much she enjoyed it. I understood, really – numbers were solid to her, constant. Two plus two would always equal four. It was different for me – they were loose, nothing like the words that I loved to put together and create.

Uncle Jasper was the most qualified teacher in his subject, having lived through the wars that he taught me about. History was interesting with Jasper for a teacher. The way he spoke about the wars, I felt shivers roll down my spine. There was an instance where my Aunt Alice told him to shut up because he was scaring me. I didn't mind though, because if I could make myself forget about the bloodshed that he was talking about and listen instead to the way that he talked about it, I wouldn't mind if my lessons went on for hours.

… But there were the moments too, when I saw all of the light leave his eyes. When he stopped talking. Those were the times when my Aunt flitted into the room, wrapped her arms around his neck, and dismissed me. I knew that those few times, he'd become lost in not the American side of history, but the _vampiric_ side of it, and that he needed my Aunt right then.

My Aunt was the most amazing Aunt that anybody could ever ask for. Well, except for the times when she happened to become a little bit too hyper and bought me a car on my seventh birthday. Granted, I was sixteen and had gotten a license, but a Jaguar XF was a little bit over the top. I'd gotten used to over the top with this family. Aunt Alice taught me languages – Spanish, French, Italian, and German. By the age of seven, I knew at least seventeen different languages. I think I've lost count. I want to learn Ancient Greek one day.

Then there were my parents. My Dad taught me music, music that fell swiftly over his fingertips on the piano and anything else that he played, that I sang along too. My Daddy taught me not only to read music, but to compose it as well. Sitting next to my father on the bench of the piano and singing while he played gave me a feeling like nothing else. It was harmony, it was the closet that I'd ever felt to my father.

My mother gave me my love for books, for their pages that rustled and crinkled and told a story, though the same when you opened the book for the second time seemed to tell a different story. I taught myself to read, I've heard, but my mother taught me to write – she taught me to write fiction, stories of things that ranged from elves to what a normal high school day would be like.

I'd find out that last one for myself soon enough. We were moving – and for the first time in my life, I'd be going to a high school, a private school in a quiet, shady town in New York.

It was one of the only good things that came with the act of moving, that I'd finally get to experience that. The other amazing thing was the fact that my best friend in the entire world would be moving with me.

Jacob Black.

He was moving with us. Even as I thought it, something raced through my veins, and I didn't know what the feeling was called. It thrummed in my throat and filled every available inch of my soul. That feeling – that thing that I didn't know how to explain – that was how my Jake made me feel. As if that feeling might turn into something vicious if he was to leave, something that might tear me apart from the inside out.

Jake and I did just about everything together, and it wasn't just because the rest of my family couldn't really go into town. When the rest of family wasn't hunting with me, Jacob was. We took walks together in La Push when it rained.

Even now, I felt a smile crawl onto my lips, even while looking at the bedroom that I would have to leave. I swung the tote bag on my shoulder – I wasn't bringing much to me in New York, just a few simple things. I had a few suitcases packed that were all ready to go, but in the tote bag I carried the books that I couldn't go on a long car ride without. _Alice in Wonderland, The Phantom Tollbooth, _and _Little Women._ I carried something to write with as well, as I always did. There was always a pen in my pocket – Aunt Alice had chided me for it several times already when one had exploded in a pocket of designer jeans. I tried to appease her.

My hand flickered to the light switch in my room, to turn it off for the last time. I watched as the room went from a bright, welcome light, to a dark, empty room, bare of anything but sadness that was harbored there. I could feel it now, crawling up in my chest, that pressing sadness. I yearned to take a picture of each inch, to have my Grandma draw every aspect of it. What about that shadow that used to fall on my ceiling at nights? The one that looked like an alligator swimming in an ocean on a really rocky day? I used to tell it goodnight. Could you take a picture of a shadow?

I suddenly didn't want to leave. If I couldn't see the things that triggered them anymore, would all of the memories be gone? Would this part of my life cease to exist?

I knew that it was part of being a Cullen – the constant moving, leaving your memories behind, but I was a newcomer at all of that. They'd done it before. Surely their pasts couldn't all be empty of those memories, could they? I swallowed back a sob, not wanting to make a sound – any one of them would hear me, with their senses as attuned as they were. I managed to not make a sound – and perhaps that was why the one person who could sense what couldn't be heard ended up finding me leaning against the wall, with tears streaming down my face. I was the only one in my family that could cry, but I knew that didn't mean I was the only one who could feel the sharp sting of sadness, and my Uncle Jasper felt it more often than anyone.

Sighing, he held me against him tightly but carefully, rubbing my back. "I thought that you would have figured it out by now, being as brilliant as you are." He said softly, when my tears dried out.

"Figured out what?" I asked, my voice cracking somewhere in the middle of the sentence. Uncle Jazz took the hair that was falling heavily in my face and held it away, bending down so that he was level with my eyes. He was used to having to go down to people's levels, especially with Alice. He was the tallest, save for my Jacob.

He rolled his eyes, but it wasn't rude when he did that. It meant that he thought I was overlooking something. "I can feel that, you know," he said, jabbing a finger in my ribs.

I pretended that I didn't know what he was talking about, so he continued. "The sadness is normal for us all when he leave somewhere, Ness, but you're feeling that it will all be gone." I felt a little choking sob leave my throat. "All of those memories will stay, especially if you continue sharing them with us, from how you see them." Yes, my little power that I had – to share those memories with those around me. In response, I touched his scarred cheek with my fingertips. After a moment, his eyes lit up.

I'd shown him and Aunt Alice coming back to my family that day seven years ago. I still have nightmares about that day, nightmares that my Dad could see with his gift, that my Uncle could feel the terror from. When I was little, they'd taken turns holding me until I calmed. Now that I was older, I tried not to scream out. I never wanted to worry them. Once in a while, though, the screams would come back, and one of them would rush into my room. More and more often, it was my Grandfather. I felt the safest with him, where the Volturi were concerned at least. He knew the ways in which they worked.

"That's another thing, Nessie," my Uncle told me, breaking into my thoughts. Was it possible that he had heard the terror from them? "We'll all be moving together."

"Home is where the heart is." I said, smiling. My Grandma had a sign on the doorway to her study that said that. It was ironic, for a vampire, but it meant a lot to all of them, and now me too. For me, the heart was my family.

"I'm ready." I said, nodding once, before he even got the chance to ask if I was.

"They're all waiting." He said, standing up to his full height. The rest of my family must be in the garage – waiting for me. I'd be riding with Mom and Dad, who refused the offer of Jacob driving me. They trusted him – but it was impossible for them to trust him with _everything_.

My heart seemed to soar. He was right, my Uncle was right; they'd all be there with me. We'd always be together and we'd never lose that attachment to each other that we had. It was more than a family. It was something that no language had thought up a word for to this date.

I don't think that any language ever will.

**Author's Note: **

I'm so sorry for the wait between the prologue and first chapter. I had the most obnoxious case of writers block for this story, but I think that its cleared now. Anyway, I hope that you like this chapter. If there's anything that you have a question on, feel free to PM me! Also, please remember that the more reviews I get, the likelier I am to post faster. Think of it in this way – either way, a chapter will be up soon, but the chapter will probably come out better if I have the motivation of a review from each of my readers to go on. I want to hear from all of you! Looking forward to updating soon,

SignedSealedWritten


	3. Goodbye

Author's Note:

I forgot to mention this in the author's note of the last chapter. This fan fiction is based off of a video by MissPheonix on YouTube. She created this video in the hopes that writers would pick up the story, because she didn't have time to write it herself. I took up the challenge! Please, go check her and her video out.

**The Witching Hour**

"The minstrel must go on his way,

As he has done so long,

And so a note of sad farewell

Lingers around his song.

Ah, will I e'er come back again?

My dear, alas, who knows?

The heavy hand of death is laid

On many a budding rose."

E. von Monsterberg quoted from

Musikanten, Gaukler und Vaganten

Yes, we left as we came, silently, invisibly, and by night. Uncle Jasper led me down the hallway, probably making sure that I wasn't going to collapse or something. They were all way too overprotective of me. Our garage was attached to our house; lead into by a door and stalls. It was large, since it had to fit about seven cars – mine, my Dad's Volvo and the Ashton Martin, my mother's Ferrari, my Uncle's Jeep, my Uncle's Ducati, my Aunt's BMW, my Grandpa's Mercedes, my Aunt's Porsche, and Jacob's rabbit whenever he came over. Alright, so that's actually ten cars. It's hard to keep count after awhile.

I'd be going in the Volvo with my Mom and Dad, and Jacob would be following in his car. No amount of begging was going to allow me to ride with him. My Aunt Alice and Uncle Jazz would be riding in her Porsche – not exactly ostentatious, but we were leaving at night, anyway. Grandma and Grandpa were going in the Mercedes, and Aunt Rosalie and Uncle Emmett were going in his Jeep. The rest of the cars would arrive within a week or so in New York. I didn't ask how and I didn't wonder why. I'd learned awhile ago that my family had their ways.

The sounds of my family packing last minute necessities drifted to my ears as I descended the stairs into the garage. Sneaking my way into the garage, I smiled. Grandpa was sitting on the hood of his Mercedes, talking lightly with my Dad. Grandpa was always calm, always smiling.

"Hey, Nessie!"

My head swiveled in the direction of the voice calling me. Uncle Jasper moved passed me, going in the direction of the canary yellow Porsche. It was Jake calling me, and I went to him.

"Hey, Jake." He was leaning against the side of his VW Rabbit, swiveling the key around his right index finger. "Ready to go?" I asked him, tugging on a strand of my curly bronze hair.

"Ready as I'll ever be." He said, giving me a grin. "What about you? Can New York handle Renesmee Carlie Cullen?"

I couldn't help it, I laughed. "We're not exactly going to the big city or anything." I reminded him. "And besides, I'm not going to be Renesmee Cullen, remember?"

It was a thing with our family – whenever we moved, wherever we went, we always had to change. That meant new last names, new relations. It was the first time for me, but I couldn't be allowed to have the same name. A name is nothing for a Cullen. We have to change, otherwise, we can't survive.

I'd be Renesmee Carlie Mason this time around, using my father's natural last name. He'd be using it too – and I'd be posing as his sister. It was easy enough, red hair, same features. Anything that the rest of the world believed, we had to go with. Follow them in what they see. It's the easiest thing to do.

Aunt Rosalie and Uncle Jasper would still be posing as twins, another thing that was easy enough for anyone to believe. They'd be going by Brandon this time around, my Aunt Alice's actual last name, something that my Aunt Rosalie hadn't originally agreed to, but had consented to in enough time. That didn't, as she often reminded us, mean that she had to like it. Uncle Jasper, though, was in love with the idea.

Of course, Grandpa and Grandma would still be posing as the mother and father of our family – as mine, as well. My actual mother and father were too young to look as if they were actually what they were. Grandpa and Grandpa would be using the last name Mason this time around, as well, meaning that Edward, Emmett – who would also be going by the last name of Mason – would be the 'adopted' ones.

I think that my Aunt Alice was happiest with her new last name – because it wasn't really new at all. She'd be going by the last name of Whitlock – for the past few days, she'd been going around the house saying the name to herself, with a smile planted firmly on her lips.

Jacob, this time, would be going by Cullen. That was the funniest of it all – I could see that the idea hadn't originally agreed with him, but he'd gone along with it, just like everyone else. No complaints.

"Then will New York be ready for Renesmee Carlie Mason?" He asked, trying his sentence again. I had to laugh. Was it ridiculous that I was blushing? I could feel the heat in my face, glowing in my ears.

"I-I'm glad you're coming with us."

In all the realm of things to say, how in the world had _that_ popped out? It made no sense and it was just embarrassing!

But Jacob didn't laugh at my random exclamation. He just smiled, and muttered two words.

"Me too."

"Are you ready back there?" My Dad asked, turning around from the front seat of the car to see me in the back.

I nodded, settling the bag I had been carrying on the floor of the car next to me. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be." I said, repeating Jacob's words almost verbatim.

Dad nodded, swiveling the key in the engine of the car. The Volvo purred to life. Mom was next to him in the front seat, a book in her hands. This wasn't her first move – no, she'd gone from Phoenix to Forks, but this was her first move with the Cullens.

I pressed my face against the side of the window, peering into the dim area of the garage. Aunt Rosalie and Uncle Emmett's Jeep pulled out first, and started down the road to New York. It was a long drive, and one that would probably be easier to do by plane – if it wasn't for the fact that planes were filled with people, and in such close quarters, things could go wrong. What if someone bit their finger while eating one of those little airplane peanut packages? That wouldn't fare well.

So, we were going by car. It would take longer, but t would be infinitely safer.

Uncle Jasper and Aunt Alice pulled out next. My Aunt waved to me through the window, and blew me a kiss. I waved back with the ferocity of a lion, mouthing the words, _See you soon_.

We were next. Dad put the car into reverse, and pulled out slowly. I heard that he used to drive quite faster than any speed limit, but most of the time when I was in the car, he didn't. I mean, he didn't drive like a normal father would, but ne wasn't a maniac, either.

The car backed out of the garage. I could hear the crunch of the gravel beneath its tires. I pressed my face against the glass of the window, feeling hot tears come to my eyes and threaten to spill over.

"Goodbye," I whispered. My breath fogged the glass. Goodbye to the house with its open rooms and walls of windows. Goodbye to my room and goodbye to the forests surrounding it. Goodbye to the hunting trips with my family and spending time with Grandpa Charlie. But, also, goodbye to the fears of the Volturi in that field, of Aro's papery skin and Caius's frowning face, of Marcus's indifference and Jane's haunting gaze.

But most of all, goodbye to my childhood.

And hello to an eternal future.

Author's Note:

**I'm sorry that this one was shorter than the last, but it seemed like the perfect place to end it. Please review! It absolutely inspires me. **


	4. Prophecy

**The Witching Hour**

"By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes."

Macbeth

She rested back on her arms, tilting her head backwards towards the full moon. Golden hair spilled down over her shoulders; a waterfall of moonlight. Eyes that were as blue as ice held a laughter in them, a sort of carelessness. Long legs crossed at the ankle on the dewy grass, green with the end of the summer. She was the image of perfection; the queen bee. Grass tickled at her legs.

"It's a beautiful night, Blair." Said her companion. The girl next to Blair was her opposite in numerous ways. She lay on her back, face lit by the moon and stars. She was tiny, and dark skinned where Blair was tall, and ivory. Curly black hair spilled over the grass. Eyes the color of green glow sticks peered out from beneath dark lashes. Most assumed that she wore contacts.

"I fear that it's one of the last, Nixie." Blair murmured. "Colder weather will be here."

Nixie turned towards her elder by a year, laying on her side. "What if the prophecy isn't filled? It said we'd find her by the first snow. Summer is ending, Blair, and we've been searching all through it. You're a senior this year. What will happen when you leave?"

"Then you'll take my spot; but I fully believe we'll find her before then." Blair smiled.

The girls had known each other since they were young, before school age, before the group had formed and a prophecy told. _Before_ they had known they were witches.

The powers lay dormant in their unsuspecting parents; but all six girls, all from different families, had traced their ancestry back to suspected families in Salem, during the witch trials. They'd traced them to the _real_ witches – the ones who escaped because they were witches, and because they could. Mere humans had perished in their wake. The children, having had powers dormant until first grade, believed that their families had landed in the same town by fate.

To make things happen. To change things.

And then, the prophecy.

In first grade, there'd been just Blair. Then the next year had come Nixie and Aze, whose powers had manifested in their first grade year as well. The year after that had been the twins, Celine and Maya, and Persephone. They'd been together ever since, starting with mere pranks… and moving closer and closer to the witchcraft they'd been born to do each year.

Nixie laid her head against the grass again. In her head, the amount of days left ran constantly. Days. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. Time counts that humans were unaware of. Nixie, the human calculator.

There were six of them in total, but this summer night was solely for Blair and Nixie. The other four were separate from the school tonight on the eve of Blair's senior year.

Blair, Nixie, Aze, Celine, Maya, and Persephone.

The witches.


End file.
